


Celestia

by McADDBaby, Yupanqui



Category: Villainous, Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Assault, Cyberpunk, Eventual Smut, IN SPACE!, Inspired by Fanart, Multi, Non Canonical Immortal, POV Multiple, Red Shirts, References to Aztec Religion & Lore, Sex in Space, Solar System, Space Opera, Space Pirates, Tentacles, Villains, Violence, cyber punk-ish, hopefully this feels a bit like if Firefly was set in cyber punk, mayyyybe, minor Paperhat stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-11-22 06:53:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11374890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McADDBaby/pseuds/McADDBaby, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yupanqui/pseuds/Yupanqui
Summary: The year 2123.The great municipalities’  mining operations had been besieged by a haunting presence in the Asteroid Belt for decades. The Quorum, an interplanetary mercenary company, has dispatched the last outpost of the once influential black arms organization on Europa. Commerce lanes breathe easy as the Demon’s notorious organization has been extinguished. True to form the Demon and his crew of misfits have taken up arms against the rule of law aboard their pirate vessel, Celestia. With an eye on the Kuiper Belt, Black Hat Inc., races to enlist the down trodden miners residing in the newly claimed regions beyond Pluto. Chased by a specter of a ship called Ares, the ship and its crew find themselves scavenging for replacement parts to covertly heal Celestia after the company’s recent rout from the UN authority…





	1. Prologue

A small beige planetoid hangs in the distance. Still. It’s moon creeps over it with a sluggish afterthought. Eons pass before a visitor appears with a ‘blip’. Its gilded panels straining to drink in the radiation from the nearest star. A wee hole of light barely discernable from the rest of the heavens. The planetoid doesn’t show interest. After being isolated for so long and witnessing the creation of its celestial siblings, what’s a speck of dust?

Two red dots suddenly appear on the visitor’s fuselage. Followed by two more focused on the spelling of a round logo. Letter by letter. N. A. S. A. Just as quickly, a blinding surge of light rhythmically flickers illuminating the surface of the planetoid and revealing a large geometric heart created during some apocalyptic geological event long ago. Silence. Nothing moves. Nothing blinks. Debris where once a mechanical marvel existed. Chunks of it begin to move in the opposite direction. Large plates of gold, aluminum coated panels, and three small rugged cubes (hydrogen fuel cells) are seen making their way to a large silhouette of a vessel. It blocks the star, drenching the surface black. Lights blink alive from aft to stern slowly tracing the contours of a mediumly sized craft. A commotion brews through the port holes lit with stale florescent lights. Muted. A couple of corridors can be seen set ablaze in orange as crew members leap to and fro. LED flood lamps on the stern reveal the ship’s name:

[C E L E S T I A](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JSAd3NpDi6Q)

Bright violet jets of water exhaust stream from the back of the ship jolting it forward. Corridors flicker on and off as the surge of the engines cuts power to two decks of the ship. Panicked faces streak by as it accelerates past Pluto and towards the icy worlds beyond.

“Ahahaha! Suck it nerds!”, Black Hat rasps from the helm as if beaming at an unsuspecting college dweeb getting himself into a fender bender on the highway. His ship a corvette.

Blaring whistles and orange indicators give gravitas to his maniacal laughter.

The entrance to the bridge scrapes open and out shoots a man dressed in a white coat with a paper bag over his head secured by a set of steampunk-ish goggles. Dr.Flug. He stumbles forward clumsily lunging himself against BlackHat while trying to take control away. Closing hatch, an afterthought.

“Bu…but sir aren’t we supposed to be covertly looting Plutonian orbit!?”

He freezes. Something large and prickly makes its way up his pants leg and twists around his thigh. The small gush of cool recycled air raising the hairs on his calves, legs, and loins. A playful tug forward.

“Shut it dweeb. I’m having my fun for the night.”

Flug winces as the tentacle tightens its grip, an iron aftertaste pools in his throat. He bit into his inner cheek again.

“Yyes I suppose… bbbut…” he protests but is cut off by a peculiar sight. Suddenly the bridge was different, 180 degrees different, eclipsed by a set of razor sharp teeth, and a cat’s scowl. Deep piercing yellow eyes carved into his own. A wet oddly familiar musk of autumn leaves punishes his senses.

“Now now, Flug don’t get yourself worked up about this. Covert ops _is_ Dementia’s department. Whereas I, well, I can have my way.”

Another unsightly languid appendage appears from behind BlackHat moving towards his face. Flug feels it stroking his cheek, caressing his neck, and making its way towards his navel, but before he gets to any interesting bits…

“Captain, the Ares was alerted and has been detected moving past Europa!”

Suddenly the bridge has rotated again and BH is nowhere to be seen. That scent; gone. There is a regal air about him now.

He clears his throat. A dark smoky mist where BlackHat had been lingers. “I know, Argyll. The scraps. Loaded aboard I trust?”

Flug coolly asks with his back to the crewman, hands on his console making sure to give control of the helm back to Juniper, the ship’s AI.

“Sir, yes, sir. Malicia has the team assembled and waiting for orders.” The man chirps up.

“Right, I’ll be there just as soon as I secure our position. Head back to the hold.” He replies sternly while powering down weapons and feeding the allocated power back to comms. Fueling his obsession.

“Of course, Captain. Sir? Why did we have to disclose our position to salvage the satellite?”

Taking his time, he cools the engines.

“Never you mind. Just get back to Malicia.”

“Sir.” Argyll turns to leave.

“Meow.” BH purrs.

A smile runs away from Dr.Flug’s face. A cat’s gaze is always something to smile about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First large fic! We're writing furiously as the Fall '17 Semester drags on! McAddBaby, thank you so much for writing this with me!  
> Think cyberpunk.
> 
> Villainous fan-fiction based on a couple of random scenes from 'Firefly', 'Beowulf', '1984', and 'Duck, You Sucker!'. Clothing changes to each of the main characters have been made to accommodate for locale and climate. Iconic pieces of apparel are still present though.
> 
> This is a non-canonical work of sci-fi.


	2. Alone.

[48 hours prior]

Music from the room next door seeps into her mind. “Too much…” She keeps mumbling to herself. Eyes wide in delighted surprise. Damp sheets and a man for company. A corpse, _but_ solemnly she traces the small of his back until reaching his ass with her index finger drawing blood with her nail. Spines cautiously sprout from the back of her neck, shoulders, and navel. The cotton sheets are heard ripping underneath her. Reptilian features unfurl from their shelters as she contemplates her latest lover.

This specimen’s name was Aoxil and a member of the ruling class on Tenoch[1]. His untimely death the result of her incessant pumping for information on the last known whereabouts of the Ares; the largest UN carrier this side of the Belt. Flug had been adamant about keeping Aoxil alive and kicking but this asset had been so hard to resist she exerted him to exhaustion. Fatally.

“Awww, pity ya couldn’t hold ya breath longer than five minutes…”

She had suffocated him. The curse of having stout thighs. The musk of his sweat permeating the sheets along with hers and the lazy stillness in the air gave the illusion that he was napping. His contorted expression said otherwise. Both nakedly sprawled across the bed and bathed in a blue hue from the buzzing neon “Kernighan Inc.[2]” sign coming through the oval window behind them, she reaches over, takes his face in her hands, and closes his lifeless eyes. One last kiss graces his limp lips. A giggle. She bites down and tugs at his lower lip a bit before turning around and ripping into song; jumping up from his tomb.

“When the men oooon the chesssboaaard...”, while dancing into her panties she tapes down her breasts, wincing a bit as the adhesive yanks on her left nipple. Taking the leather jacket smelling of coal from the coat rack near the door she clumsily shuffles into it. A chill running down her spine as the icy garment embraces her. Horned scales on her shoulders scratch it. Twirling around the room while crooning the lyrics and occasionally bending down to pick up clothes, the scene begs the presence of an eerie violin playing a twisted B flat note with an unrosined bow.

She picks up a pair of black tights and takes a whiff.

“Mollusk with a hint of,” sniff, “ahhh lime, these are mine!”, sniff, “ooof.” placing one foot through and feeling the fabric hug her calves and thighs; she hears it pop and stretch.

“Now where’s my projmem[3]?” she chirps at Aoxil. There’s a small cyan lace ankle bracelet fastening a dark glass bead to him gleaming in the blue light. She touches it and begins to rub the object; making it shine and project her name on Aoxil’s skin. Dementia. Like a BCD panel shining underneath the skin of his calf, the green lettering then changes to display the following alpha numeric sequence in white: “23TrB”.

“Ahhh yes, thank you Jeeves!” she sings, giving the bracelet a hardy pull making the man’s leg jerk towards her. A fart.

“Ruude. Chair.” She commands.

      A round hatch opens above her without a sound and slowly a round bar stool is lowered by an unseen force. A light clunk as it touches the steel floor. Eyeing the small piece of black furniture for an instant she turns towards the bed and inches down to pick up a pair of mismatched Converse sneakers. Their seams coming undone and the grayish soles creaking as she wrenches them in her hands. She sits. Placing her feet on the bed and carefully lacing her trusted companions on while making a survey of her “work”.

Putting on the bracelet, her left wrist displays her name. The image slowly fades away.

“Not bad for a Monday… night? What time is it?”

Grabbing the stool and scraping it across the room to the window facing the smoky damp corridor a sepia colored floating vehicle zooms past without as much as a rustle. A whirring sound crackles somewhere in the room. Dementia gives her right temple a light tap jumping on the stool and pressing her palm to the cold transparent aluminum window.

“Five fifteen in the morning, ma’am” Juniper offers. The singsong voice is controlled by the projmem but sounds as if its someone in the room with her.

“Righty oh! Thank you Juni! Almost missed the Show!”

“My designation is Juniper.”

“Whatev.” She miffs

“Did all go well with our guest, ma,am?”

“Yeah. I’m alone. Wha’s the best place to lie low?” Dementia braces herself against the window. Wide-eyed and curious, she takes a breath and looks intently at the scene about to unfold.

      Far off in the distance there’s a puff of sooty smoke originating from a seven-story gothic complex with pulsating windows and a man hanging from a comms line. She sighs.

“Skytel[4] Mobi on Horch and Biss, ma’am. Shall I give you directions?”

Dressed in blue denim pants and a fluffy pirate shirt the man then swings towards a hand outstretched from the fifth floor of the tower. Crowds below and above gather to watch. Three skips eclipse Dementia’s window then suddenly bolt towards the commotion, each displaying the same red/blue coat of arms as their predecessors’ decades ago.

“Yyyep.”

Turning around she grabs her green beanie off the bed and gives Aoxil one last slap on the ass before darting to the other side of the room and keying something into the door’s console.

“Don’t wait up! I’ll be home late hon.” Blowing him a kiss.

      A swoosh as the door slides open and Dementia skips across its threshold. A pause. The cyan panel inches to a close and the console glows still. Click. Rooms fitted to the cylindrical shape of the city’s standard residential towers in its center resemble wedges. The light of a floating skip transiently intrudes on the solitude of the room. Five minutes pass. Rumbling and shimmies are heard in the distance as a passenger rail bemoans its cargo. Rhythmically, the blue neon sign outside flickers on and off. Its light bouncing off the beads of sweat on Aoxil’s back soaking into the rough cotton sheets around him. Modern embalmment.

Bang! Bed and body are shoved upwards and back against the oval window with a “thunk”, leaving among other things, an imprint of his oily bush and penis, then slumping back and down on the pillow with blood spurting from his mouth. Collapsed lungs. Smoke envelops the now cavern followed by blaring horns coming from the center of the celling and an orange hue overcoming the neon’s own. A strong smell of gunpowder and scorched metal permeates the area. Standing in place of the doorway a small silhouette of the fiend holding a white orb wears a crooked smile.

“Hey hon! I really need to pee.”

 

[1] Tenoch (teh-noh-ch): Founded in 2095 it is held in orbit by a complex of carbon nanotubes forming pressurized containers of simple Terran air allowing the facility to skirt Titan’s atmosphere. Taking after its namesake, Tenochtitlan, it is the largest metropolitan space station still in operation with a mostly homogenous population.

[2] Hydrogen processing conglomerate headquartered on Europa, an icy moon of Jupiter

[3] Projectable memory (projmem): Cheap small solid-state devices that contain up to 50 Tetrabytes of memory able to project a display on any surface.

[4] Skytel: similar in fashion to motels, they offer cheap lodgings for most space farers between Earth, Mars, Jupiter and Neptune.


	3. This old duo?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black Hat makes his presence known to the crew of the Celestia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing a new character: Malicia

      Her “boss” was complex and witty, a perk to consider about the job. A myriad of thick cast iron and velvet corridors the next was an intriguing office setting with its share of surprises behind every hatch. A mercenary’s milieu, pirates, slavers, miners, and the occasional UN escort gave the employment opportunity its sake of adventure and risk that no reasonable network engineer worth her IPD would glaze over. She balked at Black Hat’s first salary offer giving him the shock of his life or so she thought; the scar on her shoulder telling her otherwise. Strictly violent negotiations between the two took place once upon a time, reaching a consensus after taking down three governmental operations on Jupiter and half of Mars’ potato of a moon. Network infrastructure, naturally. Thus, proving her worth to the demon or as she liked to call him:

“Daemon?” She whispers. “You got anything fah me?”

Staring down at the cat’s yellow orbs in the void of a façade he calls a face. Staring each other down in the empty soot laced cargo hold. The air stale and dry, carbon monoxide scrubbers barely able to do their job in a place so readily accessible to the chaos of space. A block of dark chalk intrusively floats in between the two “gunslingers”. On one side, the incarnation of malice and on the other, Black Hat.

“Mhmmm. Something… sssinister Malee-ssseee-ah” he rasps at her. The tiniest respect for the crimson eyes piercing the veil of dark curls flickered across his eyes. Malicia stares back at him without hesitation. There aren’t many who have gained Black Hat's attention; fewer still who are held in a "positive" light. Of course, some would say there was no true difference in his views on allies and foes as the end, both lead to some form of pain. She beams at him while hurling a large 5kg aluminum alloy plate in his direction. Black Hat dodges the speeding projectile with the slightest tilt of his head. It swishes passed his left temple, smashing into the hatch behind him with a “clang”. It slowly floats away.

Unfurling to his full girth and height, smoky rings form around his torso and three long appendages take shape where his feet would be. Grabbing a handle on one side of the hold with his left tentacle, the suckers on its underside linger a bit, as though thinking.

Without warning, Black Hat launches himself towards Malicia to bind her however, she was too quick. Pulling his coat and yanking him towards her, the former adversaries embrace.

“Ahahahha! Forr foock’s sake BH, yah could ‘ave at least let me know you were on board! ‘Alf the foocking crew thinks she’s haunted!”

Placing a foot on the panel behind her, Malicia throws their collective weight onto it before, launching them into a spin around the empty hold.

A caustic laughter rose from the pith of his stomach causing the panels to screech while reverberating his tone.

“It _is_ the little pleasures…”

The spin lingers as Malicia tightens her embrace. Showing just a smidge of fragility since she hadn’t seen the demon after their hasty departure on the frozen plains of Europa two years ago. Clouds of exhaust burying him in snow as their pod launched towards the Celestia. Blurs of dark and light colors twirling in the distance.

"Pleasantries aside, Malicia, we have a problem to address," Black Hat stated as he pushed against her shoulders to better hold her in orbit with his razor clawed hands, while one of his tentacles grabbed a rail from the far-left corner of the hold. The appendage sounding like stretched rubber as it struggles to pull both to a stop. Malicia's mouth twists into a sneer to visibly show her displeasure. Bringing up her right leg between her and Black Hat’s torso, struggling to get free, the ship’s fearless leader places the heel of her boot against his stomach and digs in. His single visible eye widens in surprise as the kick forced the demon to unpluck his claws from her small Kevlar padded back. A rip can be heard through the cargo. Small purple fragments of her uniform float around them. Malicia and Black Hat’s heavy breathing echo; bright florescent lamps above them buzz with anticipation. Straightening his turncoat and adjusting his top hat, a red flicker of light shimmers behind his monocle, however Black Hat doesn't retaliate. The classily dressed entity continues:

“Two nights ago, Dementia disappeared from the idiot’s personnel network nearing Titan’s atmo.” One hand on his woolen hat pushes it up, like a prospector surveying a gold vein, he folds his arms. Their eyes locking once again. Despite the zero gravity, the air felt heavy with pressure and tension as the two beings stared each other down.

“Wha’s the ditz gohtten herself into this time!?” Malicia growled.

“Ah ah ah who, Mal, who." Black Hat mockingly corrected before continuing. "Aoxil, the chair of the commons oversight delegation on Titan. That rancid gas bag of a moon is home to the most delightfully vilest of obsessions. Dementia being a frequent.”

“So?" She shuffles a bit in her suit; intimidated by the, now fading, red light. "Wha’s that got to do wit Ares?” She plucked a grey bulky orb helmet that was floating above them; “Black Hat Inc.” etched on the rim.

“It was stationed somewhere in Jovian orbit. It had taken us some time before we discovered this back on Triton.” Black Hat reached behind him with his three tentacles as he watched the network engineer connect her helmet to her suit. An audible “squiirck” is heard as he tightens the suckers onto a handle.

“…and now it’s heading towards us.” Malicia furiously waves her arms in the space above her as if touching invisible buttons seen only through her helmet. Black Hat conjures up a violet bubble around his head; its' wisps of steam ironically form a small halo.

“and _now_ it’s heading towards Pluto.” He corrected. Voices crackled to life through the speakers inside Malicia’s helmet. With a flick of her hand, she motions to the panel on her right. A visible “Abrir” labeled button is underneath the lid. Light blue plumes puff out underneath her soles as she starts to activate her suit.

“And the sinister?” She questioned. One small click sounded behind her. Creaks and scrapes followed by a “ffooomp” as air is stripped into the void of space. The grey cracked doors draw back like curtains rising before an audience at the theater. Their eyes adjust to the flurry of activity going on below them. Visible towers holding open the doors of a research facility encrusted into an asteroid straining against the defenders’ blasts of light. Endless stars form the backdrop to this chaotic scene; sentinels in the void of space.

“She killed the man…” Black Hat drily explained, his visible eye slightly narrowed when Malicia's screen shifted its attention. The focus was on a thin figure, who was wearing a white coat darting between stations, and presumably barking orders. Above him, a bright orange rectangular container is seen floating away from Dr.Flug and slowly making its way towards the two beings.

Despite his elegant stance, Black Hat's body and facial expressions gave off the tone of boredom, as he continued with the briefing.

“During orgasm while riding the night away before the hit on the Ares’ captain.”

When Malicia failed to respond, Black Hat's spine lit up with a deep red light. Malicia had her hands inside the orange rectangular bin, the recent arrival, stopped what she was doing to stare at him in awe.

“An artist.” The reverence in her voice was palpable.

“A fool! …as for Dr. Flug." here Black Hat's monocle eye rekindled to life to match with his spine, as his voice warped into a demented choir of horrors. "He knows nothing of these issues and it will remain that way. _You_ will make sure of that by purging the interplanetary logs. Failure to do so…” a wicked chuckle seeped passed his green glowing fangs that began to drip with acid. In a blink of an eye, Black Hat's eyes lost their crazed look and his mouth was back to a bored pout, almost as if Malicia had imagined the whole thing. A brief, tense pause, broken only by the sporadic gargles that slipped through the comms, as Black Hat lazily blinked at Malicia.

“O-oh?" Malicia sturred out before she sharply inhaled and continued on. "Aaaand why’s tha gonnie help? Annd waih… how n tha darkest heavens do yah know about this?” Her anger helped bring her mind back into focus though it did nothing to help with her racing heart.

“Warp travel[1]. His invention.” He slothfully replied back while gesturing towards the asteroid. “It’s gonna be big. I can’t have the 'good' doctor," he chuckles darkly at the little title he gave the man, "distracted… now that the crew fears him." Black Hat gives a pause at that before a small wicked smirk sprouted. "Hmm, how _did_ he do that?” Another dark chuckle escaped the creature's lips. "I'll have to look into that."

“Is…is that rahspect for Flug I ‘ear now? Can’t be.” A baffled Malicia asked. Black Hat was a creature that rarely - if ever – aided others, even if they were on his side. Saying once, that "hardships build character which benefits me with a stronger ally and most importantly, free entertainment."

Malicia straightened at the intense look she received from Black Hat. With a slight lift of his chin, Black Hat gave her a small toothy smirk, "Jealous, Malicia?" He mockingly questioned instead.

Malicia, slightly peeved, brandishes an obsidian weapon with the words Black Hat Inc. engraved into it. Giving her own dark smirk, she called out with a dangerous tease.

“Deamon, you’ve gon soft.” She hissed out with devilish glee.

Instead of anger, Black Hat crackled out a nasty laugh, as he cooed back at her. “You sure about that, Malicia?” Monstrous teeth made an encore appearance in the form of a grin that would’ve made the devil cower in fright. The demon stretched his left hand towards the facility. He tilted his head towards it as an unspoken command for her to follow the direction of his gaze. As if by witchcraft, Malicia pinpointed the target and, with a tap to her visor, she could clearly see… them.

A small grey soldier cowering behind a large outcrop of bismuth. She’s alone. Black Hat's nasty grin grows bloodthirsty as the fingers from his outstretched hand give a snap; but no sound was made. Instead, below, a poof of violet smoke expanded above the defending party, covering that corner of the field in darkness. Malicia's helmet explodes into panicked chatter through her comm. Despite her fear of this stylishly cladded being, Malicia snorts. She couldn't help holding back laughter. Bringing her left arm up and with a few clicks to the panel it holds, she pushes [ play ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UlljoJ5lovQ). Old, elegant music sweeps over the screams of horror from the inner comm. Beethoven’s seventh symphony – the Second movement. Both dastardly figures linger above the ship’s exterior as the demon’s appendages each take turns pointing at random personnel and enjoy the classical music, that gives their disturbingly twisted show a lovely flair of elegancy.

The blood curling screams on the asteroid’s surfaces ebb with “thumps” of smoke popping into existence. Pillows of soot were all that was left of Black Hat's victims. A slow waltz of abandoned obsidian weapons and grey spears twirled in space. Crystalized blood forms on the rough edges of severed limbs, longing for their no-longer existent owners. They populate the field. Most of the Celestia’s crew watch in horror as the laboratory they had come to raid is sterilized by an unseen supernatural terror. Muffled heart-wrenching screeches marking the raiding party’s disbelief. Behind them, a little engineer tucked between two juggernauts stares in confusion. Slowly pushing his way forward, nudging stiff suits of stunned onlookers aside, and looking up he spots the two masters gazing from the Celestia’s hold.

“Oh. This old duo.”

 

 

 

[1]  Theoretical concept of bending space-time with an incredible amount of energy to bring objects in the universe close together thereby shortening travel time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All praise goes to McADDBaby for the flow and flair of this chapter! A superb writer!


	4. A tap-dance

      Caustic laughter fills the halls during its tumble down the stairs of the subterraneous mausoleum. Giving the indication that for whatever reason, this company, was not about to give it any quarter for having a large footprint. Without care, a set of hands pushed the large mammal down the remaining set of stairs. Squeaking and chirping with each step, each gritty dusty step, the poor bear descended. A poof of dust marking the giant, light blue plush, Care bear like creature’s final stop. It had a small yellow flower sprouting from its head but despite the rough treatment, it cheerfully dangles as 5.0.5 rubs its sore bum and contemplates the surroundings. Water drips in the distance and the boots of its five captors reverberate with every step. The mausoleum's depths gave off a damp chill in the air; a small reprieve from to the frozen crimson wasteland above. Squinting pass the overhanging lights above it, 5.0.5 could barely make out the stairs that ascended into the darkness above. They were a long way down. Turning its attention back to examine the items closest to it in hopes for clues on its whereabouts, 5.0.5 spots a large chair of deep oak held together with brass tacks and elegantly decorated with plumed serpents to its left. Three colorful jack-in-the-box toys to its right. Leaving 5.0.5. stuck in the middle with a newt. Noticing 5.0.5’s puzzled gaze, the blue spotted reptilian blinks with curiosity, before giving one of its wide eyes a lick. 5.0.5 couldn't help but give it a timd smile.

“Crunch”. Blue blood slowly oozes from beneath a black, dull boot that had suddenly stomped down on its new friend.

“Suffice to say that you’re not a talking teddy, are you!?!?” Cuauhtémoc bellows at the horrified bear, his beard blazed with the sun kissed glow of the surface. Bright blue eyes gave off an icy cold glare as he analyzed the trembling wide-eyed stare reflected at him. His face, hair, and clothing were covered from the dusty winds. Cheeks and lips were parched and cracked from being out in the barren surface of the, recently terraformed, Mars. With one hand on his hip, the other rustled his dusty blonde hair, causing a cloud to ascend into the air. 5.0.5’s pearly white belly turns a dusty maroon as the dirt drifts down onto it while silence fills the hall. Feeling his tongue dry and sticking to the top of his mouth, Cuauhtémoc[1] motions to one of his men to pass him a ladle from the nearest well. He drinks, giving a long “sluuurp”, before giving it back to the grunt.

“We’ve been tracking her for two damn months now, my dear fuzzy friend." Leaning into the trembling bear's face, the dusty man sneers in hopes to intimidate the other for information. "The only thing we _do_ know is that she was last seen with you." Here, Cuauhtémoc's face darkens as his bushy eyebrows folded in, causing deep wrinkles to appear across his forehead. "Who are you working for?”

Behind the leering bearded man, another dressed in an amber jumpsuit slowly makes his way over. Pushing back a dirty hood to shift bent scratched goggles up to the top of his head, the grimy covered man approaches the curious bear. Steel toed boots marched to a deliberate beat as eyes burned with an intense stare at the abnormally colored mammal. Sweat stains dotted his collar and the foul sour stench of alcohol shrouded the man. Sinister green eyes. Greasy dark curly hair. Breath reeking of cat piss. All of which caused 5.0.5 to grimace and lightly paw at its nose. 

With his hands clasped together behind his back, the man tilted his body to make it seem as though he could tower over the bear. “Suppose I was to trim the weed that grows on your noggin’?" The man carelessly asked. "I cannie think you’d feel anythin’ when I do but I’m still curious ‘bout it." 5.0.5 released a whimper when the filthy man's eyes flickered with an unholy light and his mouth twisted into a sick grin. "Cuau how ‘bout it, ah?”

Cuauhtémoc shot an unimpressed stare at the other for the nick name. None the less, he gave a tiresome sigh as he waved his companion's question off. “No, no, I suppose the oaf would still be smiling as we did it, Tlaloc[2]." Casting his blue eyes back over to the flower-bear hybrid. "Alas, it can’t talk.”

Straightening to a proper stance, Tlaloc's grin dropped into a pout, though his eyes still held their heavy gaze. “We don’t need it to talk. Justa put a cup’ o pictures infront of it and whichever it squeals the hardest to we’ll know it’s genuine." Without turning his head, Tlaloc's raspy voice barked out:  "Bercy! Tlitchi! Lug the oaf to the chair and strap it down.”

      Two amber grunts slink from the shadows to follow the command. Seeing the two men make their way over to it, 5.0.5 shuts its eyes as the buff grunts move to either side of the bear. One of the lackeys cruelly latches onto one of 5.0.5’s ears to get the experiment to face him. It feels the other man lift one of its arms up and over his head. The other gives a grunt and copies the action with the other arm. The failed experiment's feet lifelessly drag beneath it, as the men slightly struggle to move its massive form, before setting the bear down. This was it. This was the moment it knew it’s life was coming to a standstill. It had to be. No use hiding anymore. A generic teddy bear smile rested on its muzzle as wide, blank, doll eyes soullessly gazed back at Cuau. While panting from the heavy lifting, the grunts work on strapping 5.0.5's massive paws to the chair’s wooden frame, creaking and moaning from the abuse as the men struggle to govern the blue monster. 5.0.5 smiles and – as if to spite them – it gives a cute tilt of its head.

The tiniest twitch ticked in his left eyebrow, Cuauhtémoc growled in annoyance as he gave his shoulders a roll. “See Tla? This is a waste…” He sniffs at the bear

“Doncha see? We’ll ‘ave to practice anyway. You! Bring me that torch.” Tlaloc motions to their newest recruit.

A day ago, the crew had given them homework: capture and interrogation of the failed experiment 5.0.5 - a known accomplice and product of famed Dr. Flug. A fugitive of ONI[3] and a wanted criminal by the UN[4]. Standing at 5’2” with a pear like figure, the new rookie was the only female among them. The suit they wore did nothing to hide their thick thighs nor the biceps that were cladded in leather sleeves. She had impressed the crew with her dexterity and absolute willingness to aggressively interrogate any suspect that got in the way of Cuauhtémoc. It also helped being there at the right time and place for a new hire.

Called “The Quorum[5]”, this outfit was a band of mercenaries that followed the ancient customs of the Aztec warriors in the sense that beheadings were common when their leader was displeased with his subjects' failures. Curiously, the lead interrogator was a position open for the longest time prior to their indoctrination. What made the leader slightly suspicious of the other was the fact that 5.0.5 was being strangely cooperative – he’d heard stories of this behemoth.

Discreetly, 5.0.5 gives the slightest tilt of its head and when the unwanted attention was blocked, winks.

Any chatter that had been going stops, leaving the howling of the wind outside filling the space left by their voices, creating an abrasive ambiance. Cuauhtémoc turns away from the bear and takes a good look at the smaller figure. His left-hand cautiously moves to rest on the hilt of the small mag-gun strapped to his hip. Tlaloc straightens up, cocking his head to give a peculiar look at the two men holding the bear down. Puzzled stares reflect.

“You know, I never did get your indoctrination number… friend.” Cuau casually states with a nod of his head at Tlaloc.

“Would you mind Tla?”

“Ah, yeah it ‘as been a long time since you ‘ave asked for it Cuau.” Slowly turning to face the woman. Her pale complexion accentuated by the void surrounding her. An apparition dressed in an amber jumpsuit, goggles, and messy red hair; with plasma torch in hand she takes a step back and smirks. She lights it. Eyes bloomed into orbs of mischief when they linked onto Cuauhtémoc’s blue sapphire eyes.

“Boys? Whacha thinkin’ ‘bout?” She miffs before cocking her head to the side as a Cheshire grin stretched onto her face.

Tlaloc carefully reaches for the obsidian saber on his back. His suit’s cuffs betraying his actions with a "clink" as his hand tightly grasps the handle. Muscles became tense and ready to bolt towards this surprise threat. The sound of a small circular cylinder smashing on the ground was all the warning they received before iron dust clouds engulfed the group in a red hue. A sickening snap echoed before the reeling stench of hot metal and flesh permeated the area. Two voices screeching in agony, were instantly silenced, as two ominous “thumps” hit the floor. Severed heads bearing petrified faces rolled between Tlaloc’s feet as blood pooled up around the bear’s stumpy legs. A squeal of laughter rains down on the remaining men.

Cuau urgently turns to Tla.

“Do you know how to use that thing?!?”

“Aye I do.” He retorts scanning the darkness above. Their attention focused on finding that scurrying bitch.

“Is this a tap-dance, then?” She sings from above.

“We can play!!” Cuau screams into the void. His rage echoes back and lingers as the men circle, back to back in the lit stage, with the bear still strapped down to a chair. The taste of iron in Tlaloc’s mouth fills him with disgust and a hint of longing. Europa was nothing compared to this husk of a planet.

 

 

* * *

 

[1] Cuauhtémoc: /kwau̯.ˈte.mok/: from Classical Nahuatl: “one that descends like an eagle”

[2] Tlaloc: /t͡ɬaːlok/: the name derives from the god of rain, fertility, and water.

[3] Office of Naval Intelligence: Foremost research authority of the inner planets (Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars)

[4] United Nations: Earth organization bringing member states together to confront shared challenges and manage shared responsibilities.

[5] The Quorum: One of the largest leagues of mercenaries on the outer worlds. Best suited for political manipulation and extortion in lieu of a centralized government.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was inspired by the rescue scene at the beginning of Serenity! Does this mean that Dementia is Simon in this? Hopefully it wasn’t too harsh on 5.0.5.  
> Our “heroes” in this fic come from Aztec lore and are hopefully faithful to their folkloric/historical inspirations.
> 
> Cuauhtémoc: Last Aztec Emperor  
> Tlaloc: God of the rain and weather


	5. Europa

[Two years prior – Europa orbit]

Shifting with the weight of the vessel, the blast originating seventy meters off the starboard bow wrecked the compressed aluminum panels of the lower crew quarters. Celestia’s efforts to ream the Ares had failed. Debris scattered throughout the blackness of space. Six crew members of Celestia lifelessly bounce off the Ares’ bridge windows, while the lucky few left alive are still twitching their helmets on as the new hole in Black Hat’s beloved ship ventilates precious oxygen. Pieces of carnage from the ongoing battle clink against the forward windows as Flug throws his weight towards the bow of the ship in a futile gesture to save Celestia from another one of Ares’ broadsides. Sixteen years in space and not once had Celestia been fired upon; she had a record of slipping away prior to any engagements. Now, she and her once spotless record, bared a hideous gargantuan hole.

An almighty boom is heard a floor below him. The ship shutters as though it had truly felt the pain from the blast. Dr. Flug, along with other fidgety items, fly starboard. Celestia rights herself with little effort while her halls echo with the sound of groaning metal. Once more, Dr. Flug and the free roaming items found themselves being swayed to the other side of the room. Sailing passed his seat, he shoots out his hand and pulls himself forward, shuffling as his cotton-vinyl uniform complains at the force of the strain. Settling himself in, he turns to the third-left monitor and activates his magnetic soles, feeling his feet and legs straighten against the leg rests as his boots fasten themselves to the metal frame. A jolt from another ship’s volley changes the oddly beguiled vessel’s course, it’s the Quetzal. The team tagging between the UN capital ships had subdued Celestia and forced her towards the surface of Europa causing Flug to grit his teeth with hatred and fear. His fingers were almost blurs as he typed and swiped across the control panels - directing more of the reactors’ power towards the hydro engines and placing more demands on Celestia's AI. The pounding of his heart loudly thumbed against his chest; his hands had started to sweat and shake from their frantic pace. His pin pointed eyes shot back to the map as a new white blip appeared on the radar.

Black Hat.

For the first time since this godforsaken battle had started, Flug gave a huff of relief, before flicking his sight back to the other monitors. Reassured that his boss was on his way with some vindictive plot to give them the upper hand sent a calm in the form of numbness through him. His heart was still beating like a drum though its beat was to newfound excitement rather than fear. His hands regained their composure while beneath his slightly damp paper bag, a smirk snaked its way onto his face. Black Hat’s evacuation was successful and once back on board he could get started on plotting a course through the UN fleet dead-set on annihilating what little remained of the once prestigious black-market supplier. Soon Flug can give Juniper the okay to blast their way through the blockade. It was simply a matter of time. Flug’s own sense of nihilism taught him that only chance governed their escape. A hacked battlecruiser and a sputtering carrier are no match for his beloved Celestia. ‘We’ve been through worse,’ he reminded himself.

The console starts to bleep and the first monitor swipes away all data to show an angle of the shimmering pod that all his hopes had ground themselves on. He narrows his gaze at the ‘Proximity Alarm’ banner that Juniper had decided to use as the border for this image. Cold sweat trickles down from the nape of his neck down his spine and to the small of his back. His hairs stand on end. He quickly glances behind him to the old monitor. Slowly, like ants emerging from the ground, six more red blips appear on the CRT inspired screen. Like a stab of a knife, the doctor recognized the threat with a deep gasp. Just what he needed - Boarding parties. “Assault shuttles! Of fucking course, they would have Assault shuttles," he hissed with annoyance and an undertone panic. Straining himself upright to look behind the monitors and beyond the safety of the deck, he spots two cylinders glinting in space, refracting what little sunlight reaches this far out into space. Two cylinders encircled by wisps of exhaust as they skirted large pieces of debris left behind by their fallen brethren. Both beckoning him to surrender his wits. His hands started to shake again as his mind leaped into overdrive. Malicia, Argyll, and Dementia hadn’t reported in yet, Black Hat's pod still have one hundred and fifty-two clicks until it reaches him, not to mention the time it would take to avoid random stray debris and missiles, and of course there are still two ships sandwiching the Celestia. Flug finally noticed that his panicked induced puffing had filled the bag up with unwanted heat causing him to sweat and made the itchy material of the bag stick to his face.

With new found rage at the sensation and the situation he found himself in, Flug ripped off the sweaty paper bag in one swift motion, leaving only the paper rims around the area of his goggles untouched. Greasy from sweat red curls bounced with new found freedom as scarred and blotched skin sang in relief as the cabin's cool air caressed the hot abused skin. Gripping his hands into fists before slamming them against his armchair, Flug throws himself back into battle. He enters a flurry of activity with Juniper, the AI, virtually at his side. She alerts him with updates of the ship.

Like now.

“Sir. Lower quarters have been compromised. Shall I seal the deck?”

“Only the one ventilating atmo.” Flug commanded before hissing out of frustration. "Where the hell are they coming from?"

“Sir?”

“Just seal them all off!!” He snapped as his fingers jabbed and slammed against the transparent keyboard. The keys shimmered with a faint white light whenever his fingers tapped them.

Another blast illuminates the bridge with a blinding explosion. Flug rocked back as Celestia is lurched aft. The sound of debris and other loose items ricocheted against the ship echoed like rain hitting a cold tin roof. That couldn't be right as that last blasted didn't even hit Celestia. Flug swiped at the screens - flipping from one camera to the next. Something is missing.

His stomach clenched in icy cold dread when the monitors finally found the source of the space garbage. “It… it can’t be. No, nononononono-" Flug's voice feverishly pleaded.

  What remained of a pod was now nothing more than metallic slivers that bounced off of his observation windows. Some scraped while others smudge against the borders, releasing atomized gas, causing the parts to spin in slow, lazy circles into the iciness of space. There was no mistake - it was Black Hat's pod. Quetzal - Fucking Quetzal - had the gall to keep firing at the charred remains of the small shriveled figure in its center. As Flug took in the inhuman scene, both outside his bridge and on the monitors, he lifelessly fell back into his seat. Another rumble shakes beneath his feet. More bits and pieces of Celestia tumble off into space as the power flickered on and off before dying; taking the heat and gravity with it. Flug could only set and watch as everything crumbled before his eyes.

Torn pieces of brown paper floating above the mourning engineer. Green pin point eyes swirled with sorrow and rage as his fingers promptly gave power to the ship's starboard beam cannons. The haze on the window panes gave off the scent of ozone, clearly signaling that the ventilation in the room was failing, making Flug the main source of heat. A tap to his right inner wrist, his soles freed him from the restraints holding him fast to the ground. Giving himself a little nudge, Flug gracefully ascended towards the canopy. Warning bells called for Jupiter for his attention though he paid them no mind.

“Decks are sealed, sir, but there are still three crew members unaccounted for… Sir? what are you doing?”

With one gloved hand, Flug touched the glass, right on the spot where the burnt figure floated lifelessly. “I," he swallowed but the lump that had formed in his throat only throbbed in pain. "I just want to know - " if it really is him, if he truly is gone, if this truly was the end of everything. The end of Black Hat.

“I - Sir, the Ares is charging its beams.” The AI tried to snap her creator's attention to the oncoming threat.

“Juni,” he softly called to her.

“Sir, their beams are at 75% -”

“Juni," she stopped at his voice, the tone was soft and so very, very broken. "I need you to do this for me…”

Her creator's gaze never left the being outside. Silent, as she analyzed his unspoken command, she gave a soft "As you wish" before setting to work. She turned her attention to the enemies, analyzing, comparing and contemplating which place to strike first. After all, no one gets away with hurting her creator.

Throwing caution to the provincial wind, Flug let Juniper handle the plotting and targeting needed. The hand on the glass panel crunched into a fist as he gave the order to fire on the Quetzal. The bridge groans and creaks as power is sucked from the lights, crew quarters, bathrooms, refrigerators – every last drop pulled into this massive middle finger to the aggressors outside his bridge. "Fuck you," Flug sneered with all of his hatred. Juniper fires. She lets the cannons’ ire burn into the Quetzal’s port beam and displays the grotesque sequence of events in real time as Flug lets himself float away from the window; ready to receive the Ares’ congratulatory remarks in the form of a volley.

“Sixteen years” – He murmurs, closes his eyes, as he let his body freely drift through the air. The room around him burns bright. Memories rabidly stream through his mind; each replacing the other just as fast as the next. He couldn't stop the hollow smirk from forming. His arms were open eagerly to welcome death. Through his eyelids he can deduce what’s coming.

Nothing.

       Sacrifices. Achievements. Flug had given it all up for the sake of getting near. At first, it was for the sake of science but then, that tall, savvy, top hat wearing bastard swaggered into his life. Then there was a whole new wanting - a whole new reason for striving for greatness. But alas, it was all for naught. The numbers ticked down in Flug's head, each with a certain demon's crazed grinning face beside them, before they hit zero.

Silence.

      Fascination with the amount of time it took to die and the idea that he could still think snapped him from his surrender. Creaking open one eye, Flug's brain short circuit as it tried and failed to begin to make sense of the chaotic scene unfolding before him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahaha! Cliff hangers!  
> We're still working on this one so we'll make changes as we go.  
> Thank you to everyone who's left kudos on this work. It's keeping us going!
> 
> Btw: does anyone need shipboard directions??


End file.
